One to Seven
by Monkey D. Toushiro
Summary: Severus Snape was the kind of man who typically did not swear. He believed swearing to be for ineloquent dunderheads—something he wasn't—and he always had much more elegant ways to express his displeasure. However, the moment Lily's eyes met his from the Gryffindor table to the staff table, he swore. Snippets of Severus' POV from years one to seven. One-shot.


I. First Year

Severus Snape was the kind of man who typically did not swear. He believed swearing to be for ineloquent dunderheads—something he wasn't—and he always had much more elegant ways to express his displeasure. However, the moment _Lily's_ eyes met his from the Gryffindor table to the staff table, he swore.

 _Fuck._

In his head, at least, he did—quite loudly.

Severus felt the heat of bitter anger burn in his chest. How could _Potter_ have Lily's eyes?

 _Fate was a bitch._

II. Second Year

To describe the insufferable spawn of Potter in a few words, they'd be attention seeking, suicidal, obnoxious, mouthy, bratty, and such a _Gryffindor_.

Was it really necessary to showcase his parseltongue talents in front of the entire school?

Was it really necessary to play hero _again_ this year? It was absolutely infuriating to see the second coming of James Potter trouncing around Hogwarts like he owned the place.

III. Third Year

Severus almost flinched at the degree of anger that burned in Lily's eyes for a fraction of a second. _Of course_ the Potter brat would side with his equally if not more obnoxious criminal godfather. _Who cares_ if the Potter boy lived? Certainly not Potter himself.

The only way for Severus to continue his job of protecting the stupid boy was reminding himself of his vow, his past, and his failures—not that the last one needed any reminding—he remembered well enough every time he looked into the boy's eyes and saw _her._

IV. Fourth Year

For the first time, Severus was actually a bit concerned about the boy's well-being. Initially, he had thought James Potter number two had done it again—had gone and put his name in the cup for the attention. But when Potter had suddenly appeared back into the maze with the dead body of the Diggory boy, Severus knew he had been wrong.

That was the year Lily's green eyes lost a bit of something and gained something else. Something sad, something remorseful, something Severus was genuinely frightened of, because it was reminiscent of the pair of eyes he saw in the rare moments he looked into the mirror.

V. Fifth Year

Severus was wrong again—twice over this time. He felt a pang of emotion that he would rather not identify, but he couldn't deny that it was he who had taken away Harry Potter's chance of a magical family. It had been a great shock to him to have learned of Black's innocence two years late (and thoroughly unpleasant to have even seen that dirty mutt again), not that it made Severus hate him any less.

But even worse, he had later learned, when delving into Potter's mind, that the boy's relatives were more tormentors than anything. He had actually taken away Potter's chance of having any family at all—completely, one hundred percent, had taken away his family.

Potter. Black. _Lily._

He had drank himself into a stupor that night.

The second thing he had been wrong about was the likeness of Potter boy and his father. He had been completely wrong. Despite _everything and all_ that Severus had done to the boy over the years, _Potter did not hate him._ The capacity of the boy's forgiveness was infinitely greater than James Potter's. From there, he had gone on noticing the true nature of the boy was nothing like his old school nemesis.

In fact, Harry Potter was much more similar to Lily Evans...

This, of course, hung down on Severus heavier than ever.

He hated himself more than anyone did. That, he was sure of.

VI. Sixth Year

Damn him, damn that old man. Those long, agonizing years—all for the boy to die. His heart lurched at the thought. Dumbledore was a cruel man—and not just for that. To push such a task upon Severus...the world would hate him for it. Not that it really mattered.

He would do it because he had to.

Severus held his wand in hand, setting off to the Astronomy Tower to fulfill the insatiable old man's final request.

This time, Harry Potter would not forgive.

VII. Seventh Year

It had been a tiring year. Severus had not caught a glimpse of the distinct shade of green even once this school year—Potter boy was off on some quest from Dumbledore and had not bothered attending school.

He had seen poor imitations of the green in his dreams, but when they stared back at him, they were nowhere near as enrapturing, mesmerizing as the real thing. He had deliberately ignored the fact that the green eyes were framed with spectacles and black hair instead of red.

Now he lay there, his warm blood choking him, merely wishing to end his agonizing and meaningless life. Death was _finally_ calling him over.

He thought he heard a bit of shifting behind him, but he must've imagined it. Who would come for him besides Death?

Severus' eyes shot open—no, he hadn't imagined it. Cold, dry fingers caressed his face, careful not to touch the fatal wound on his neck.

Harry Potter.

His eyes, they were looking at him with such grief and concern, with such compassion.

Severus breathed in an agonizing breath, barely registering the metallic taste of blood in his mouth.

Harry Potter did not hate him.

 _And perhaps fate did not hate him as much as he thought._

Severus stared into the warm green gaze, letting himself drown in it. A part of him he hadn't realized had been wound up tightly finally relaxed.

As that old coot would have put it, he was truly ready for the next great adventure...


End file.
